


How to Destroy a Chantry

by Kisuki57



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M, POV Second Person, blow up the chantry yourself, buy roses for hawke, have fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-03 22:47:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6630091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kisuki57/pseuds/Kisuki57
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blow the chantry to the sky, first in second person then in third person while following Anders around. Fall in love with M!Hawke, buy him a rose, and take him dancing. Shout that there can be no peace. Enjoy</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How to Destroy a Chantry v.1

Gather saltpeter, charcoal, and sulfur from the sewers beneath the city with your lover at your side weeks before you are certain. Tell him it will help. The day before flames engulf the world, ask your lover to distract the grand cleric while you plant it. When it is done, find him above and leave with her. Take her out to the market on Wintersend Street at twilight. Buy him honeyed cakes and a rose. 

Visit the chantry a week you plant it. Stand on the balcony up and to the left, where you slid a knife between the ribs of the man you loved first to save him from a fate worse than death. Look at the clean, carefully replaced tiles that leave no indication of what occurred here. Mourn that there is nothing left of him. Walk down the side stairs and up to the raised altar. Stare at the statue of the woman whose words declare your maker-given gift to be a sign of damnation, whose words demand that mages be kept away and apart, whose words are the justification for the hidden abuses. Clench your fists, hold your breath. Relax and release to a count of ten. Trail your fingers along the base of the statue before you leave. 

When you do plant the bomb, walk thirty-eight and a half steps away from the landing in the basement. Lay your burden down inches before the foot of the statue above. Linger a moment, examining your burden, inconspicuous in its brown cloth, there among the burdens of others in nondescript wrappings, small and large, smooth and lumpy. Turn your back on it and walk away. 

The next day, follow your lover when he goes to confront the knight commander of the Templars and the first enchanter of the circle mages in front of the chantry. Slip down to the basement, light the edge of the fuse, and come back up. Stand behind your lover while he tries to calm them both. Count to ten. When their shouting reaches the breaking point, tell them. Tell them that you will not let further harm come to innocents, That the circle has failed you all as it failed your first love. That you cannot stand to see it any longer. Count to four. Tell them both there can be no half measures. When your lover asks what you have done, count to three and tell him there can be no turning back. Count to two. Turn your back on it all as fire claims the night sky and cinders and ash rain down, and tell them there can be no peace.


	2. How to Destroy a Chantry v.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> POV third person

Anders sought saltpeter along the roughhewn limestone walls of the sewer and gathered the silver powder into a small, blown-glass bottle that sparkled silver in the dim light. Charcoal already lay safe in his clinic far above, stored in a large glass jar on the top shelf in the right of his herbs cabinet. For sulfur he followed his Hawke, trusting the other man’s far keener nose, and he gathered it deftly into its own bottle. Hawke followed behind, secure in his belief he was helping the mage.

  
A week before Anders planted his bomb, he visited the chantry again. He walked nineteen paces from the door to the bottom of the stairs on the left, up the forty-eight steps to the highest balcony, and eight paces forward, two left. There, he ran his fingers softly across the grooves between the tiles, over the tiles themselves, searching for a trace of Karl Thekla, his first love, here where Anders slid the blade between his fourth and fifth rib to save him from tranquility, the complete lack of emotion. Anders found nothing.   
He walked slowly down the small stair on the side to the base of the raised altar. There, he locked narrowed eyes with the statue of the woman, fists clenched, back straight and tight. After a few moments, he pulled his gaze away to the base of a statue and released a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. He trailed his finger along the base of the statue as he turned away. He wiped the dust on his trousers.

  
A week later, he asked Hawke to distract the grand cleric. While they spoke, he slipped to the stairs, walked the fourteen steps down to the first landing, and measured the thirty-eight and a half steps to the foot of the statue above. There, he lay down his burden among the others at her feet, its brown cloth inconspicuous among the other nondescript beiges, browns, and greens. After a moment, he turned his back on it and walked away.

  
Above, he collected Hawke. Afterward, he took him to the night market along Wintersend Street. They wandered hand in hand through the stalls, sharing honeyed cakes and apple turnovers. They washed their sticky fingers in the fountain. Near the tavern with the heavy violin, Anders presented Hawke with a rose. They both danced. The entire night, Hawke shared stories and private jokes with the man he loved. Anders’ laugh never reached his eyes.

  
The next day, Anders followed Hawke to confront the knight commander and the first enchanter. Without being noticed, he lit the fuse three steps from the landing in the basement, watching the silver smoke rise and curl, before hurrying above to stand behind Hawke. _Ten .. nine.._ When the shouting around him reached a breaking point, he interjected.   
_No further harm will come to innocents._   
_The circle has failed us all._   
Hawke turned to Anders, questioning. _Five.. four.._ Accusing. _Three.._  
 _There can be no half measures._  
Anders turned around, eyes on the white marble pillars that marked the chantry entrance. _Two.._  
A soft roar broke the dull silence first, growing as flames shot through between the pillars, above the roof. The chantry, once empty and silent, now claimed the night in a haze of red fire. Above it all, silver smoke curled sharp against the black sky. _There can be no peace._


End file.
